


Foil and Folly

by theprincegroom



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, F/M, Moral Ambiguity, Murder, References to Macbeth, References to Shakespeare, Searching for freedom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincegroom/pseuds/theprincegroom
Summary: “Hark, Banquo, our beloved, our guest. Hark! Banquo is dead; found lying in his chambers pale, drained of blood.”The words echoed through the drafty hallways of the castle, the ghost of last night’s ill-fated banquet lingered, chasing away the laughter of Macbeth’s coronation. A chill ran down Lady Macbeth’s spine. The whisperings in the corridors frightened her; she knew her husband’s mind was not what it once was, but she could not believe he would go so far as to kill his friend and brother-in-arms. With Duncan’s death fresh in her mind she thought, power gained from blood spilt is but a farce.The door to Lady Macbeth’s chambers burst open and Macbeth strode through, chin held high with a fire in his eyes.An alternative take on Lady Macbeth.
Relationships: Macbeth/Lady Macbeth
Kudos: 5





	Foil and Folly

“Hark, Banquo, our beloved, our guest. Hark! Banquo is dead; found lying in his chambers pale, drained of blood.” 

The words echoed through the drafty hallways of the castle, the ghost of last night’s ill-fated banquet lingered, chasing away the laughter of Macbeth’s coronation. A chill ran down Lady Macbeth’s spine. The whisperings in the corridors frightened her; she knew her husband’s mind was not what it once was, but she could not believe he would go so far as to kill his friend and brother-in-arms. With Duncan’s death fresh in her mind she thought, power gained from blood spilt is but a farce. 

The door to Lady Macbeth’s chambers burst open and Macbeth strode through, chin held high with a fire in his eyes. There was a manic energy emanating from him and Lady Macbeth feared for her safety in her husband’s presence for the first time. 

“My love, my dear, Lady Macbeth! For you, I have succeeded in that which you claimed to know I would most assuredly fail. I am yet the man you so often doubt; I secured my throne, silenced the one who could yet usurp me; how now, come from that window, you will catch cold!” 

“You insist upon your victory, Macbeth. At what cost has it come? The whispers in the hall speak truth; you have brought ruin unto the foundations of your power,” she wailed, turning to face her husband. Lady Macbeth saw the future laid out so clearly in front of them, the terror of discovery. She could not meet his eyes. 

“But you see, Banquo was the last to know, and he is vanquished! We are free, our power secured. My children will now rule Scotland for decades to come! You must be tired; come now, rest from this trying evening. Recover your nerves, my sweet wife. You have not the temperament for murder. You spoke falsehoods before, for I am the man to make assured our future, not you.” 

At this, Lady Macbeth’s spine stiffened, and she drew herself to her full height. She hissed, “You speak, yet you hear nothing. You are the vine strangling our family tree. I am here, I am afraid, and you tell me to rest! I yearned for murder, for power, and yet you have so easily completed this task. What have you become? I wished to be you; now I know this is no life to live. I have a future, you have nothing.” 

Macbeth started forward with his arms outstretched, meaning to gather Lady Macbeth close. His eyes sought out hers in the dim light of the moon, but he could only see darkness reflected back at him. He clutched Lady Macbeth’s hands and stood with her, gazing out at the moonlit moor. He rocked her slowly in an attempt to reassure her, all the while murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. Lady Macbeth’s body relaxed into Macbeth’s loose embrace and she raised her hands between them, as if to hold his face tenderly. 

Lady Macbeth felt white-hot fury rise inside her at the circumstances brought upon her family by their misguided actions. The murder of King Duncan hung between them, now too did the murder of Banquo and she reached as if to grasp her sins in white-knuckled hands. She knew then the only way to cleanse herself of the past was to be rid of the power that drove her to senseless ambition. As if in a trance, the hands cradling Macbeth’s face moved down to his chest and shoved. Lady Macbeth watched her husband stumble back and fall out of the open window, his face a mask of shock and betrayal. Banquo’s face must have been a twin to Macbeth’s, both lost to one they loved, Lady Macbeth mused distantly. While she had anguished over Duncan’s death, she felt nothing when she heard the thump of Macbeth’s body hit the moor. 

A knock on the door. It seemed years before Lady Macbeth could rouse herself from the window; in truth, it was but a moment. She strode to the door, unsure how to act now that she was free from one weight but burdened with another. 

A castle servant whispered, “Is everything alright, m’lady? I heard a mighty thump in the corridors, you see, and we are all spooked by the ghost of Banquo.” Lady Macbeth still felt numb and shooed the servant away with a few soft words. She knew she would have to do something. The body would be discovered by morning and prison was a future worse than the one she had just killed. The worry gnawed at the edges of her mind, but a calmness was spreading through her. She left her and her husband’s room for the final time and made her way through the castle. No one saw her leave. 

Walking into the moor with her head held high, Lady Macbeth knew what she had to do. With the castle doors in the distance and no one to hear, Lady Macbeth made her final wishes known, only for them to be swallowed by the warring winds. 

“I, the foil of my husband, folly ruinous upon my house, I did that which I renounced. Freedom my ambition, dire as power, I am now free to feel regret. No man shall rule me, nor become me in action and thought. I am Macbeth, lady in my own right. Leave me to the moor, let no man nor woman nor child wander into my path. I tire of this royal game, too far gone in my own mind to see any but mine own reflection. Be away with me, I shall become one with the earth before my time. I am but folly foiled.”


End file.
